


of dawn, of midday, of dusk

by shoutz



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/M, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Foursome - F/M/M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), double decker ishgard sandwich, it's my party and i'll leave if i want to, so many mouths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:34:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/pseuds/shoutz
Summary: The Warrior of Light finds herself wanted — by many, yes, but she only cares for three.“I would sooner be rid of this place entirely,” she says, hushed. “I tire of these insipid nobles. I wish they would say what they mean instead of talking around their thoughts like they’re afraid of them.”Haurchefant slides next to her and links an arm in one of her own, beaming down at her in a way that makes her even warmer than before. “Then let us be rid of it!” His tone is joyful and on the cusp of too loud. Aymeric and Estinien follow behind as Haurchefant begins escorting her towards the exit. “I’m certain there is room for us —allof us — to take shelter from these ignoble nobles elsewhere.”“My home will suffice, perhaps,” Aymeric offers in a hushed voice, much closer to the Warrior of Light than she had thought. His breath and tone andimplicationsend shivers down her spine.Amenable to this, they all take their leave. The Warrior of Light feels countless eyes on the four of them but pays them no heed.Let them watch, and let them make their assumptions. They likely won’t be wrong.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light, Aymeric de Borel/Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Estinien Wyrmblood/Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light/Aymeric de Borel, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 24
Kudos: 159





	of dawn, of midday, of dusk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TenkeyLess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenkeyLess/gifts).



> written for the lovely Wist!! i got a littleeeee carried awayyyyyyyyy with my attention to detail. added a few unnecessary flourishes.......
> 
> anyways do NOT ask questions about haurchefant being alive

Estinien was right. They _swarmed._

Once Nidhogg fell to the Warrior of Light, it put her in severely high regard with the noble houses of Ishgard. So much so, in fact, that she found herself enveloped in their culture. The fashions, the foods, the frippery— but above all, the courtship. Not moments after she was finally able to relax, threat eliminated and realm safe once more, she received summons to houses and dinner parties and strolls through the city with suitors eager to prove their love. Most of these families she had never even heard of, much less met before, and yet they vied for her hand.

Tactless!

But the Warrior of Light couldn’t turn them all away outright. Such curt dismissal would do little and less to help her maintain favor with these people, and thus their favor with the rest of Eorzea. So instead Alphinaud — cunning, clever Alphinaud — devised a plan: a ball, for the suitors to prove their worth not unlike a battlefield. Instead of armor and weapons, however, the attire would be formal, and the suitors would wield their words and wiles instead of swords and lances.

Which is how the Warrior of Light finds herself pacing back and forth outside the main hall, dressed in swaths of elegant silk with her raven black hair pulled back in an elegant updo, wondering how on Eorzea she is supposed to make it through this ball in one piece.

“It is a perfect opportunity to cement Ishgard within the Eorzean alliance,” Alphinaud supplies, an attempt at soothing her anxieties.

 _“And_ to secure additional funds for the Scions,” Tataru is quick to add.

They both look stunning in the clothes Tataru had fashioned for them, regal as befits the event and its attendants. A quiet murmur drifts past the door, the white noise of polite, anticipatory conversation. But she finds herself little and less soothed at the notion.

If Alphinaud’s and Tataru’s suspicions are to be believed, they all anticipate _her_ arrival. While the Warrior of Light’s actions had been what sparked such an occasion, the event is not hers in name nor in concept— yet she gets an entirely different impression when she finally musters the nerve to take a deep breath and enter the hall.

Every pair of eyes turns to face her, to take her in even before she enters the room proper. She feels them like phantom touches upon her form, roving and hungry and wanting— but for what? She is only one warrior amid a sea of suitors who would prefer her docile and marriage-worthy.

But…

_Oh._

Her breath catches in her throat when she finds three sets of blue eyes — one of dawn, one of midday, one of dusk — all watching with an insatiable desire she can feel from across the room.

Aymeric, Haurchefant, and Estinien stand huddled a few yalms away, each holding a drink as they murmur to one another. Dressed impeccably well — most likely on Aymeric’s budget — they cut impressive figures among the faceless and nameless nobles that share their apparent hunger. Their gazes all stay trained on her form, sending a heat through her that is most welcome as she strides into the hall.

Several nobles approach and introduce themselves to her as she makes her way towards those she truly desires to see. Swarming, just as Estinien said they would once Nidhogg fell and her availability became apparent. Their faces and names are not worth remembering as they offer them, but the Warrior of Light is at least polite as she excuses herself to seek out her allies.

Some are…more per persistent than others. A full fifteen minutes pass before she successfully escapes a conversation with a minor lord of House Haillenarte, one whose droning about crop yields and ore trade grows unlistenable within seconds. It takes the better part of half an hour for her to properly dismiss herself from the lordlings who scramble for her attention, her time, the honor of a conversation— their chance to prove their worthiness as her suitor.

Little do they know…

Finally, _finally_ she joins the refreshing company of Aymeric, Estinien, and Haurchefant. They have since obtained fresh glasses of a fine Doman red, save Aymeric who holds two.

“You look _absolutely_ stunning,” Haurchefant begins as Aymeric hands her his extra glass.

The Warrior of Light blushes at the outright praise. “And hello to you too, Haurchefant,” she manages before taking a sip of the wine.

“He’s right,” Estinien mumbles over the rim of his own glass, grinning ever slightly though she’s sure he’s displeased at having to wear proper attire instead of his usual armor. “Each suitor you turn away is more heartbroken than the last.”

“Would that you three could remain at my side,” she says with a smile, “that I might spare them the disappointment of hearing a dismissal from my own lips.”

“Easily done,” Aymeric says, and takes a step closer. Estinien glances over her shoulder and scowls— the footsteps she hears approaching from behind halt, before resuming in the opposite direction at a much faster pace. Haurchefant tries and fails to hold back a laugh at the exchange.

“I would sooner be rid of this place entirely,” she says, hushed. “I tire of these insipid nobles. I wish they would say what they mean instead of talking around their thoughts like they’re afraid of them.”

Haurchefant slides next to her and links an arm in one of her own, beaming down at her in a way that makes her even warmer than before. “Then let us be rid of it!” His tone is joyful and on the cusp of too loud. Aymeric and Estinien follow behind as Haurchefant begins escorting her towards the exit. “I’m certain there is room for us — _all_ of us — to take shelter from these ignoble nobles elsewhere.”

“My home will suffice, perhaps,” Aymeric offers in a hushed voice, much closer to the Warrior of Light than she had thought. His breath and tone and _implication_ send shivers down her spine.

Amenable to this, they all take their leave. The Warrior of Light feels countless eyes on the four of them but pays them no heed.

Let them watch, and let them make their assumptions. They likely won’t be wrong.

One brisk walk later finds them all breathing a sigh in Aymeric’s home, making a bee-line for his hearth to chase some of the Ishgardian cold from their bones. They remove the snow-laden outer layer of their clothes and…

The Warrior of Light, savior to Ishgard and her people, ender of wars spanning several generations, diplomat and hero and bringer of Light, tries not to gawk too openly at the very tall, very attractive men in their disheveled formal wear.

“They all wanted you, you know,” Estinien remarks during a lull in conversation. “Back there. Every bleeding one of them. And they likely still do.”

She fights a blush, ears twitching at the attention. But it lights a fire within her, to hear _that_ while secluded away with the three men who hold her closest.

The three men _she_ holds closest.

“Let them want,” she says carefully, “I know where my heart lies.”

They look between the three of them, seemingly not expecting such a brazen admission.

“Forgive my confusion, dearest, but there are _three_ here,” Aymeric breaks the silence that follows. “Three who want you in much a similar fashion, if I am not mistaken. But if you are certain…”

“That’s hardly fair,” Haurchefant says with no small amount of dramatization. “How is she to choose?”

“Oh, to hells with _choosing.”_ She smiles and steps towards them. “As you can plainly see, I have made my choice.”

They share another bewildered look, but it quickly grows understanding— and above that, hungry. Wanting. Their eyes find hers again and her tail flicks back and forth in anticipation.

Aymeric reaches out and takes one of her hands gently in his own, bending low to kiss the back of its palm. “Then allow us to show you precisely what you have chosen.”

Estinien loses his patience and closes the distance, stealing her lips in a kiss so full of hunger it’s a wonder he has been able to hold it back for so long. With two hands at her jaw he deepens the kiss, and she relaxes by ilms into him.

Haurchefant chuckles and the breath puffs against her shoulder before he leans down to press soft kisses into her neck from behind. The sensation sends shivers down her spine, followed closely by his deft fingers as they begin removing her gown.

Within moments, the Warrior of Light is bare before the three of them — her suitors of choice, for tonight and for tomorrow and for however long they will have her. By Aymeric’s hands she loses her smallclothes, and she feels his fingertips like ghosts as they skate up and down her torso, leaving trails of levin in their wake.

One of Estinien’s hands drops to cup a breast as she pulls him closer, pushing past his lips to taste him for herself. Absently, her tail wraps around Haurchefant’s hips from behind, urging him closer as she moans into their attention.

It’s quickly apparent how she hungers for them — for _all_ of them — and Aymeric seems to pick up on this as he gently ushers them to one of the lush sofas positioned in front of the fire. Haurchefant takes the seat next to her and nudges her head to face him, eyes roving over her form before he pulls her into a kiss. Clumsily, her hands find the buttons of his shirt and begin tugging, trying to get one of them at least closer to be as bare as she is. He huffs a smirking laugh into her lips and she savors the taste, feeling his hands bump into her fingers as he works himself free of his shirt.

She feels a bare chest press up against her side, lips trailing down as they suck small bruises into her neck. She moans at the sensation and brings a free hand to hold him closer — fingers tangling into long hair that can only belong to Estinien. At that, Estinien lets the gentle scrape of teeth against her skin send her ears flat, a low rumble emerging from deep within her chest.

“Full glad am I to see you so thoroughly enjoying yourself, my dear,” Aymeric says. She can hear the grin in his low voice, the hunger as he watches the three of them. She peeks out of the corner of her eye and sees he has discarded his shirt as well, standing before them and enjoying the view. Haurchefant’s hand comes up to cradle a cheek as his tongue seeks entry, which she is more than willing to grant. He’s sweet, beneath the wine they had consumed previously, and it’s a taste that has her seeking _more,_ relentlessly.

Estinien’s lips trail lower and lower, until they close around a nipple and begin teasing the bud with a deft tongue. Her moans pitch higher at that, and her chest arches off the back of her seat. She breaks from Haurchefant to gasp a breath, but his lips refuse to leave her unattended for even a moment. Instead they press into her neck, gentle and soft and so unlike Estinien’s stinging shows of affection as they had delved to find their target at her breast.

“And Ser Aymeric has been so well-behaved, so patient to wait for us to have our turns,” Haurchefant whispers into her neck. She can _feel_ his grin on her neck, the smug satisfaction of desires fulfilled. She watches — lips shining as she breathes with pupils blown wide — as Aymeric kneels in front of her.

 _“Ohh, please…”_ she sighs, a low moan that sparks a groan from Estinien. Her legs part of their own volition and she bites her lip at the smirk she sees on Aymeric’s.

He rests his hands on her knees and moves them further apart, leaving her soaking slit so wholly exposed to the air, to the room— to _him._ He eyes it with a hunger, with a need that has her moaning once more, a long, nasal tone as the tip of her tail repeatedly flicks into Haurchefant’s abdomen.

One of Haurchefant’s hands rises to fondle her other breast and his teeth find a sensitive point high on her neck near the hinge of her jaw. She gasps as the tips of Aymeric’s fingers trail up her thighs, circling over the sensitive skin so close to where she wishes they would be. His lips follow their paths, pressing gently into the insides of her thighs, and her legs spread even wider to accommodate him.

Aymeric looks up through his eyelashes, bright blue barely visible on the outside of his dilated pupils. His gaze flits over to Haurchefant, to Estinien, as they both lave attention on her with lips and tongue and teeth.

“Might I have my own taste?”

She bites her lip again to restrain a moan, nodding fervently. He licks his lips, eyes roving down to find his prize, before he leans over to kiss his way from her thigh to her dripping sex. She squirms, the muscles in her legs spasming as she tries to urge him closer, but his teasing is relentless. He maintains his languid pace until he reaches her slit, chaste kisses on the very surface that barely satisfy her desires.

She whines, ears laid back flat against her head. Aymeric’s lips finally latch onto her properly and the whine morphs into a keen as his tongue moves against her.

Estinien detaches himself to better enjoy the view of her, midnight eyes watching like she is the moon, the stars— worthy of admiration until the sun rises once more. Haurchefant takes the opportunity to seal his lips around her other comparatively neglected nipple, teasing the bud with a featherlight touch of his tongue. She moans again as Aymeric’s tongue moves against her clit and Estinien’s restraint crumbles— his lips find her neck once more and he presses closer to her, a most welcome warmth. Her hand reaches to tangle in his hair, and her other in Aymeric’s to pull him closer and urge him forth.

Aymeric’s tongue moves slow, at first, savoring the feel of her. Languid strokes trace up and down her sex, never lingering in one place too long. Gradually, though, he relents, quickening his pace, delving lower to press into her or higher to circle around her sensitive clit. It doesn’t take long for her to grind her hips further into his mouth, to pull him closer and take from him what she wants without further delay.

Blessedly, he relents, and her eyes shut tight as his tongue strokes against her sensitivity, hungry growl in the back of his throat. Estinien’s kisses trail up, up, until his teeth scrape the same spot Haurchefant’s had but on the other side, breath hot and wanting against her skin. Aymeric chooses that moment to _suck,_ a motion that has heat pooling heavy between her thighs, coaxed forth ilm by ilm by their silver tongues all over her body. 

One of Aymeric’s fingers presses into her, slow, but her body offers little resistance against his touch. Another slides in alongside it and they piston at an achingly slow pace, so contrasted by the rapid motions of his tongue against her. The only sounds in the room are her moans and sighs as they ravish her with attention, and the slick sounds of Aymeric against her sex to cover the crackling hearth that pales in comparison to the warmth they provide each other.

Her hips squirm, tail tensing as the heat builds. Aymeric’s fingers speed up, and Estinien’s teeth find her neck once more, and Haurchefant’s tongue circles around her budded nipple— sensations mounting one over the other, overwhelming her with a pleasure she could not have _dreamed._ She whines, and Aymeric’s own groan vibrates against her sensitive sex. A low rumble sounds from Estinien’s throat in turn, and—

Her orgasm strikes like lightning, leaving behind a mounting pleasure that has her arching against their mouths. So thoroughly is she undone— the waves build and crash, and she squirms against them all with a moan so loud she worries for a brief moment that any passersby could hear her come apart.

But, given time, she relaxes in slow parts. All-too reluctantly, Aymeric removes his fingers and tongue from her, and Haurchefant sits upright. Estinien remains latched onto her neck, though, pressing his hips into her side— and the arousal there is _tempting,_ slowly jostling the embers of a tired flame back into a willing heat.

Heat that seems far from finished.

She glances, then, and finds a similar telling want from her other lovers as well, lengths straining against the fabric of their trousers, varying in size and shape yet all appealing in their own right.

She would take them all, should they allow her the chance.

They blush, then, and Estinien pulls back to breathe a shaky sigh against her damp skin. Haurchefant even looks away with a bashful grin— the only indication that, in her pleasure-induced haze, her thoughts had made their way through her lips and into the air.

But Aymeric simply leans forward and takes her mouth in a gentle kiss, one that has her leaning forward for more even as he pulls away. Haurchefant wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer, while Estinien’s hips grind in slow circles against her side.

She watches, eyes half-lidded, as Aymeric says, “The night is still young, my dear.”

“So long as you will have us…” Haurchefant continues the thought, but trails off into a breathy whine as one of her hands finds his hardened arousal through his trousers, and _squeezes._

Estinien’s low tone rumbles against her as he finishes, “…we will have you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> can't believe i rly just did that.............wack
> 
> i've got some tweets [@shoutzwastaken](https://twitter.com/shoutzwastaken)
> 
> if you have room for dessert after that big sando you can find the menu over at [the book club](https://discord.gg/X6NJJAb)


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